Bustin' Out!
by stress
Summary: Who would've thought that Crutchy was the mastermind behind the biggest Refuge break of 1897?


**Disclaimer**: The characters in this story are the property of Disney and are only used for fan related purposes.

* * *

**Bustin' Out!**

* * *

Who would've thought that _Crutchy _was the mastermind behind the biggest Refuge break of 1897?

* * *

It wasn't very fun, Crutchy decided, running when you were an honest cripple. First he had to figure out just how to move quickly enough without putting all of his weight on his bum leg. Then he had to keep his arms from swaying too much so that he wouldn't teeter or totter before falling down flat on his face. And the less said about how he had to handle his old crutch, the better…

Still, you had to do what you had to do. There were times when a nice leisurely stroll through Central Park would suffice, and there were times when you had to hobble and run like someone lit a firecracker under your ass.

This was one of those times.

He felt like a scarecrow, all arms and legs and wooden crutch. Running awkwardly, he nearly knocked over the old man who ran the apple cart off the end of Pearl before almost impaling a stupid rat with the end of his crutch. He stopped to make sure that the man wasn't hurt, paused just in time to see the end of the rat's ugly, bald tail disappear down an alleyway and continued on over to Duane Street.

Crutchy was slightly out of breath by the time he made it back to the Newsboys' Lodging House. Sparing a lopsided grin at Kloppman, he didn't stop to pass the time with the old superintendent. Instead, his crutch thudding loudly against the wooden stairs, he awkwardly went up to the bunkroom.

The sun was still out but it wasn't so early that none of the other fellows hadn't returned for the night. The older boys could be very territorial so Crutchy and his friends knew that the best way to make sure they got a bunk every night was to come back and stake out a free one before anyone else could. It was no surprise when the other people in the bunkroom were some of the newsies that were around his age: Racetrack Higgins, Skittery Daniels, Kid Blink Moore and Mush Meyers.

The four other boys were in the middle of a card game, most likely poker from the pile of pennies in the center between them all, and when Crutchy came clomping in, they waited until their hand was over before looking up and seeing what had excited him so.

Blink threw his hand of cards down. "Okay, Crutchy, what's so important you came runnin'—er, um… what's goin' on?"

"It's Jack, he—"

Race was watching with a frown as Skittery scooped the pennies toward him. He barely looked up at Crutchy as he said, "Were you taillin' him again, Crutchy? 'Cause I distinctly remember Jack tellin' ya not to sneak up on him like that no more."

"No, no… well, yeah, but that's how I know he got taken!"

"Taken?" asked Mush, the only one who was actually paying attention to what Crutchy was saying. Always a soft touch, he looked worried at only the one word.

Crutchy nodded eagerly. "Yeah, taken! One minute Jack was lookin' at some bread, the next thing I know a copper had him by the elbow and he was leadin' him toward a paddy wagon."

Skittery glanced up from counting his winnings. "You know what that means, don't ya? He's goin' to the Refuge." He shook his head. "It was nice knowin' him, too."

"We can't let him stay in the Refuge!"

"Yeah," Race said, "well, what do ya want us to do?"

"We gotta bust him out," Crutchy said immediately, "and I think I got an idea."

* * *

It took a few tries before the gate in front of the Refuge was clear. The first couple of nights when Crutchy and some of the others—sometimes he went with Skittery or Race, sometimes with Mush and Kid Blink, sometimes even four of them might venture down to the Refuge, leaving the fifth to stake out the bunks—dared to try and talk to Jack, there was a uniformed officer standing by the gate. He barked when he saw the newsboys coming and even twirled his nightstick in a threatening manner if they dawdled as they walked by.

Finally, after about a week of waiting, there came a night when there was no one standing out front. Crutchy had led the way that night, Mush, Race and Blink behind him, and the four of them filed in quickly. It didn't take long before they figured out which room would be where the children would be kept. And, except for the fact that it was a few stories up and far out of their reach, it would've almost been cause for them to slap each other on the back in excitement—not that they didn't. They did, but for only a few minutes before they were deciding what the next step for them was.

Since it had been Crutchy's idea to help break Jack out in the first place, the three other boys turned to him first. And, unsurprisingly, he actually knew what they could do. "There's a window up there, all we have to do is open it. Someone will hear us and then we can ask whoever opens it for Jack."

"That's great," said Race, staring up at the window Crutchy was talking about, "but unless you're hiding something under your shirt, I don't see that any of us have got wings. How do you plan on getting that window open it?"

"One of them up there will have to open it," Crutchy said simply.

"Yeah? What, we ask them? If they could hear us asking them to open up, they can hear us askin' for Jack, right? But I don't think they'll hear us through the window."

"Race has got a point," added Blink. "And we can't yell too much or we'll get the bulls on us, right?"

"Look," Crutchy said, "there's a couple of rocks. They're pebbles, guys. We can throw them at the window and get one of those kids up there to open up. A simple tap and we have their attention."

Race and Blink nodded their understanding, mumbling agreement that throwing pebbles up at the window sounded better than trying to shout and risk getting caught by the police or, worse, the warden or any of his staff. Mush was the first to reach for a small stone but with a quick toss and a nice arc to his throw, it was obvious that the pebble wasn't going to hit the window. It was too odd of an angle, the window too high for them to reach. Race, Blink and Crutchy each tried next but it was no surprise that their tosses all fell short, too.

"What now?" Mush asked, his voice echoing the crestfallen expression on his face.

"We're too low," Blink noted, shielding his good eye from the gas lamp on the corner. He squinted, trying to gauge the difference between the window and the ground. "We need to get up higher if we're gonna have any shot."

"I got an idea," Crutchy piped up. "Mush, you can still jump high, can't ya?"

"I guess…"

"Grab another one of those rocks," Crutchy directed before turning to Race and Blink. "You two, turn your hand into footholds. If Mush steps in each, you'se guys can toss him up in the air."

"Why aren't you doin' it?" Race grumbled though, after a quick jab in the side courtesy of Blink's elbow, he bent slightly and lowered his hands so that Mush could step inside the cup he made.

"Because I'm the crip here," Crutchy answered solemnly. Sometimes, he thought, it was good to be a cripple. He didn't have to exercise his legs when he had that brain of his to rely on. "Are ya ready, Mush?"

Mush showed everyone the tiny stone he palmed before using his hands to lift himself into Blink and Race's waiting hands. "Ready."

Race groaned under Mush's weight. "Jeez, Mush, what have ya been eatin'?"

"A boy's got to eat when he can, Race."

Ignoring their banter, Crutchy said, "On three. One… two… three."

It wasn't the most graceful of leaps but with Race and Blink's help, Mush went jumping high into the air. He just managed to remember in the nick of time that he needed to throw the pebble. He did, the pebble made a loud enough crack against the glass, and as Mush was landing in a squat against Blink's legs, the window began to slide open.

After a few second's struggle, the window was finally opened enough for a tow-headed kid with a curious frown to stick his head out through the wide hole. He looked straight ahead before looking down and spying the four boys waiting far below him. "Hey, watcha go and do that for?"

"We're looking for a kid named Jack," Crutchy called up to him. "Can you get him for us?"

The boy pulled a face and jerked his thumb behind him. "Ain't no one named Jack here," he said stubbornly before starting to duck and climb back inside.

Race held up his hand to silence Crutchy's earnest sputterings. "I got this," he said before raising his voice. "Look, we know he's here. Shaggy hair, red bandana, he usually wears a cowboy hat…"

"Oh, you mean the cowboy? Yeah, we've got a cowboy here."

"Can you get him? We gotta talk to him."

"No can do." The boy shook his head. "The warden locked him up by himself last night for startin' a riot."

Race laughed. "Startin' a riot? Yup, that's Jack alright."

"A riot?" Mush said, sounding worried. He tilted his head back and yelled up, "What kind of riot?"

"He told the warden we kids was starvin' and that we should be gettin' more of the food that he's eatin'. He accused the warden of stealin' from us all, ya see," the kid explained. "He was right, too, but it wasn't pretty. When the warden broke the fight up, he threw the cowboy into a solitary cell for the night. We ain't seen him since, but we sent one of the younger boys with a plate so we know he's doin' okay… for now, that is."

Crutchy felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Some of the stories coming out of the Refuge made it out to be a prison for kids and even he knew that being tossed in solitary was one of the worst things that could happen in there. If Warden Snyder or one of his goons got to you, there was no one to watch when it happened.

Blink was the one to speak up, to reassure the rest of them by trying to get some reassurance to Jack. "Well, if ya see him again, can ya tell him his friends were here? We're gonna try to get him out of there as soon as we can."

"Yeah, yeah, sure… whatever ya say. Wait, what?" The boy had ducked his head back into the window, obviously listening to something someone else was telling him from inside. He reappeared, looking slightly panicked. "Ya better scram. The warden's on his way to check on us."

The four free newsies didn't even wait around for the boy to say another word. With Race and Blink in the lead and Mush helping to make sure Crutchy didn't stumble and fall as they ran away, they were far enough from the Refuge by the time the warden made his nightly appearance that it was easy for the incarcerated boys to pretend there had never been any visitors at all.

Out of breath and panting, the four of them stopped a few blocks away, catching their breath and making sure that none of the cops from the area had followed them out. Immediately after that Race and Blink started talking, each wondering out loud how they were going to try to free Jack; at the same time, Mush was tossing in his worries that Jack might not be all that okay if the warden was punishing him for starting a fight over food.

Crutchy listened to them all and when they stopped again for a second breath, he dared a small grin and said, "Don't worry, fellas, I got another idea." He paused, the others groaned, and he said cheerfully, "Say, what size do ya think Skittery is?"

* * *

Because this plan required only one of the guys stepping forward and trying to sneak into the Refuge, Crutchy chose to stay behind in the lodging house. Racetrack and Mush had gone with Skittery in case he needed help or in case this risky plan went south. It had taken Skittery close to an hour to get ready—and almost just as long for the other fellows to convince him to come out of the toilet—and, while they left as soon as the sun went down, Crutchy had been waiting for what seemed like forever for the three of them to come back.

Just when he was beginning to think that Kloppman might lock down the lodging house for curfew before Skittery, Race and Mush returned, he heard stomping on the stairs and knew that he wouldn't have to worry. Some of the other newsboys, some sleeping in their bunks, some talking before lights went out, they all watched and waited to see who was coming up before Skittery's voice preceded him and they all knew it was better to be busy or asleep over facing the obviously aggravated newsie.

"I knew it never would've worked," he mumbled loudly, storming into the bunkroom and daring some of the other boys to meet his steely gaze, "I never should've agreed to it. A buck's a buck, yeah, but this? Hell, I shoulda held out for _two_ dollars… oh, I'm gonna get Jack for this one… Jack and the first person who makes any sort of smart wisecrack. Any takers? No? Yeah… didn't think so."

Crutchy reached for the crutch he kept propped up against his bunk. After sliding out of the small bed, he hobbled over to Skittery, cutting him off just inside the doorway. "Hey, Skittery, what happened?"

Trailing Skittery in at a safe distance, Mush was trying hard not to laugh, and Race was failing miserably not to snicker. Every time one of his snickers escaped, he sounded more like an excited animal than a boy, and Skittery's scowl etched itself even deeper into his face. The straw wig and slightly crushed hat he was currently wearing didn't help matters any, either.

"It didn't work, Crutchy, that's what," he snapped, reaching up angrily and snatching the hat and the wig from his head. He tossed it to the lodging house floor. "Some plan ya had, the damn copper barely let me past the gate!"

"What, he didn't buy the get-up?"

Crutchy was a little surprised. True, the wig had been the cheapest one they could find on short notice and, yes, maybe it looked a little worse for the wear, but the dress he'd borrowed off of Kloppman's daughter had fit Skittery as best as could be expected. It was a little baggy, and it hid his boyish features rather well. And, he had to admit, the pink was a dashing color that rather set off Skittery's complexion quite well. If he hadn't known that Skittery was _Skittery_, he would've had hardly any trouble believing that he was Missy Kelly, Jack's long lost sister, gone to the Refuge to earn her brother's freedom.

But Skittery scowled again, hissing under his breath until you would've thought he was a balloon with a leak. Noticing the way that Crutchy was eyeing his dress, he started to paw at the sleeves, desperate to yank the offending article of clothing off his lanky body. He wasn't used to the buttons up back and, if it wasn't for Crutchy taking pity on him and hobbling forward to help, there was a good chance Elise Kloppman's dress would be ruined.

Skittery stuck around long enough to pull the dress up over his head, hold his hand out for the dollar Crutchy promised him before storming out of the bunks and off to the nearest saloon. Just then the glum and dumb newsie needed a good, stiff drink to forget all about what had happened to him that night.

It wasn't until he had left and the others were sure he wasn't going to turn around again that Mush and Race finally let loose with their laughter. Mush, at least, had the decency to look a little ashamed at finding humor in the situation, but Race looked like he'd just won the top ante during poker night. His laughter crowed, his eyes tearing as he struggled to finally answer Crutchy's question.

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Race said, "Ya wanted to know if the copper bought that Skittery was a dame in a dress?"

"Oh, yeah," answered Crutchy a touch sadly, "but I guess he didn't, if Skittery couldn't even get past the gate."

But Mush just shook his head and Race had to compose himself before he could continue: "That's where you're wrong, Crutch. The cop musta thought ol' Skitts was a real lady the way his hands started to wander like that. I think he was just startin' to get homey on his backside when Skittery finally let him have it."

Crutchy's eyes widened. "He didn't…"

"He did," Mush cut in, his laughter almost a squeal. "Folded up his fist and popped the copper right in the jaw, just like that. You should've seen it! It's a good thing me and Race were there, we stopped him from hittin' him again and we ran all the way back here before the cop figured it out. Poor Skittery!"

And, while Crutchy had to agree, he couldn't help but think about poor Jack, still locked up in the Refuge. That same knowing grin slipped back onto his face. "That's alright, I think I got another idea."

* * *

Skittery refused to accompany them back to the Refuge, so it was Crutchy, Racetrack, Mush and Kid Blink who decided to go back again and, following Crutchy's newest plan, try to free their friend. There was only one problem, though: the one cop that patrolled the beat outside of the Refuge had doubled into a pair of rookie bulls who were keeping an eye out for a mad dame with one hell of a right hook.

Three nights they tried to sneak inside the Refuge and three nights they were turned away when the cops caught sight of them, yelling at the hoodlums to scatter, questioning why three street rats would be prowling around after dark with a coil of thick rope between them. Each time they managed to escape, threats of being tossed into the Refuge themselves if they were seen around there again chasing them all the way back to Duane Street.

The next night they didn't dare to leave. In their corner of the room, Race brought out a pair of dice and tried to get some of the other boys involved in a friendly game of craps. Blink and Skittery took him on—and ended up winning half of Race's earnings when he convinced the two of them to play for pennies—with Mush watching on the sidelines. Crutchy was sitting by himself on his bottom bunk, worrying about Jack and wondering what he was doing now.

"Do you think it'll be safe tomorrow?" Crutchy asked out loud, picking up the length of rope and holding it loosely in his hand.

"Safe for what?"

Crutchy jumped out so fast that his bum leg buckled under him and he stumbled forward. Only the quick reflexes and strong arms of the boy who appeared out of nowhere was enough to keep him from falling on top of Mush.

"Jack!" Crutchy cried when he was steady on his feet, his crutch supporting him again. "Look, fellas, it's Jack!"

Race dropped the dice he was just about to throw. "Cowboy! You're back!"

"Hey, Jack," beamed Mush, standing up and clapping Jack on his back, "ya made it out!"

"It's good to see your mug around here again!" Blink teased, tapping his brown eye patch with a gentle finger.

Jack laughed. "Bet ya never expected I'd get out on my own."

"I gotta tell ya, Cowboy, the odds weren't that good when you got pinched for stealin' bread. How didja do it? Get out, I mean?"

There was a twinkle in Jack's eyes as he looked down at Race. "Teddy Roosevelt helped me out."

"What? The governor, Jack?"

"That's right, Blink," Jack said. And, with a satisfied smirk, he told the other boys how Theodore Roosevelt, the hot-shot governor of New York, came along down to the Refuge and, when he left, he gave Jack a ride out of there in his carriage. It was an amazing tale, almost unbelievable, but when Jack gestured to himself and said, "And here I am," there was no way that the other newsies couldn't believe every word he had said.

Their game of craps forgotten, Mush, Race, Skittery and Blink all got up and surrounded Jack at the foot of Crutchy's bunk, asking him to tell his story again, congratulating him on his escape and welcoming him back into the lodging house. Crutchy couldn't help but grin his lop-sided grin to himself as he listened to his hero talk. He may not have been the one to bust Jack out, but it wasn't for a lack of trying—and what did it matter anyway when Jack got out at all?

"Say, what ya got there, Crutchy?"

He gave a small start when he realized that Jack was talking to him. "What do ya mean?"

"That," Jack said, pointing downward, "what's that in your hand?"

Crutchy followed Jack's point until he noticed that Jack was asking about the rope that was hanging limply in his hand. He'd forgotten all about it when he heard Jack's voice. "It's a rope… we was gonna use it to help bust you out of the Refuge, but we won't be needin' it no more."

"Can I have it then?"

Crutchy held the rope out to Jack. "Of course, Jack. It's yours."

After stretching the length out between both his hands, Jack looped the rope around his waist. Instead of rope, it was suddenly a belt. "So, what were you going to use it for? If the governor hadn't given me a ride out his self, how would ya have saved me?"

And Crutchy, so glad to have Jack back after so many days without him and so many tries to break him out, found himself telling Jack all about his latest plan: how he was going to have Kid Blink and Mush climb up to the roof of the Refuge and, after tying the rope around Blink's waist, using Mush's considerably strength to lower Blink until he could try to break Jack out through an open window.

"You know, that ain't a bad idea," Jack mused. He pulled at the frayed end of the rope and nodded again. "I think that could've really worked."

It was Crutchy's turn to beam. "That's what I thought!"

* * *

**End Note**: This is an idea I had almost a year ago but I never actually thought I could do anything with it until I stumbled upon the premise in an old doc in my stories file. The idea of Jack being caught in the Refuge and Crutchy being the one to break him out... it had promise and humor written all over it. And maybe I just have a little bit too much fun putting our favorite newsboys in dresses - like poor Spot in _Hangover_ - but, with all the girls being dressed as boys in _Newsies_ fanfic, I think it's only fair to give the boys a little taste, eh? :)

_- stress, 07.04.10_


End file.
